


Be Brave

by NivellesArt (Nivelle), StripedScribe



Series: Be Brave [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Brainwashing, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Canon-Typical Violence, Inspired by Art, M/M, Mermaids, Torture, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, mermaid bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:02:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22483033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nivelle/pseuds/NivellesArt, https://archiveofourown.org/users/StripedScribe/pseuds/StripedScribe
Summary: A merman, bonded to a boy who lives above the water, two stories wrapped together but barely meeting."Sometimes we’ve got to pretend to be brave, so pretend for me Buck, pretend for that boy you love, we’ll get through this. A moment of bravery, for a lifetime of happiness.”Marvel Reverse Big Bang 2019
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Be Brave [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2101923
Comments: 11
Kudos: 50
Collections: Marvel Reverse Big Bang 2019





	1. Beautiful Art

Art by Nivelle - [(AO3)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nivelle/pseuds/Nivelle) [(Tumblr)](https://whoisnivelle.tumblr.com/)

Beta'd by [CaseyJuTardis (AO3)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaseyJuTardis/pseuds/CaseyJuTardis) [jcckpattillo (Tumblr)](https://www.tumblr.com/search/%40jcckpattillo)

Thanks again to the mods for organising this! 


	2. Beautiful Art

“Stay away from the surface! If they spot you, they’ll kill you, even without meaning to. They’re too busy fighting amongst themselves, now’s not the time to be trying to make friends with the two-legs. Even if they seem to have stopped fighting here, they’re still not safe, we know what they’re capable of now!” The two pups swam deeper into the river, pulling faces at the elder who seemed to always ruin their fun. The boy was back, they could see his silhouette through the murky water, as he sat near the edge. 

There was something about him that drew Bucky to try and see him every day. His parents warned him against it, the elders of their group too, that those on the surface weren’t to be trusted. All through the ocean, and through the rivers, stories travelled, of the horrific damage they were causing. Fighting amongst themselves, destroying their own world, their own people, and with it those in the water. Stories trickled through to them, from their cousins in other countries, of how the water was killing them, polluted with oil and dust. On how they’d tried to flee their own home, to fresher waters, only to be killed by strange machines lurking in the depths. The horror hadn’t reached them yet, tucked safely in their river away from the expanse of oceans, but as everyone warned, it must only be a matter of time before it finally came to them. All around them, in the oceans, metal machines exploded, seemingly randomly. Issuing a poisonous stream of death, alongside the metal that shattered through skin. 

The pups were still too young to understand war, to understand how dangerous these two-legs were, and what they could do to them. They wouldn’t understand until it was too late, and their parents and elders could do little to stop them from trying to see the two-legs. And so, every day, Bucky would drag Rebecca towards the surface, to see the child they’d claimed as their friend. To sit in the shadows of the water, as he sat alone, staring out into the distance, with paper in his hands, a book, or a drawing. He’d stay there for hours, before an older woman, his mother, came to bring him back inside. Talking to him, in a soft but angry tone, ‘You’ll catch yourself a cold sitting out here, come on, back inside.’ They wondered what had happened to the boy’s father, they never saw him, perhaps like so many of their own, he’d been killed in the past war. 

As the pups grew older, they grew bolder, and Rebecca lost interest in the two-legged boy, choosing instead to chase after the boys, playing games in the water. Bucky stayed, watching, murmuring unheard words, wishing to be able to see the boy, properly. Surely he felt the same way, it seemed as though they were both drawn to the other, he felt as though there was an invisible bond joining them. His mother had always talked to him of soulmates, of that wish of having someone who belonged with you. She’d found hers, his father, and he could see how happy they were, how they fit together. Any notion of the two-leg being his soulmate was quickly, angrily, dismissed- it was unheard of, and couldn’t be allowed. Unnatural, the elders called it, that a merman should have such an infatuation with someone on the surface. 

He knew they watched him, he’d seen flashes of silver-blue scales in the shadows, his parents untrusting of him, waiting to drag him back down away from the surface, as they’d done before.

Slowly, he’d swam closer and closer to the surface, listening, trying to hear the boy’s soft whispers, as he talked to himself, or to the water. He was so close, just about hearing a whisper, of “-a friend, someone who wouldn’t bully me-” before his tail was grabbed, sharply pulling him away from the water’s edge. Coughing, he turned around to glare at his attacker, before noticing his father, his mother close behind him, with thunderous looks upon both their faces.

“I thought we taught you better than that James, why would you betray us like that? You don’t know how they’d react, you can’t trust them. I know he’s a child too, but what were you expecting to happen if he saw you?” His father released his tail, but they kept him cornered, towering over him, tails agitating the water around them. 

“You’ve heard all the stories, they aren’t just there to scare you James, I thought you understood what they were capable of, what they would do if they caught any of us? How would you feel if your stupid mistake lead to one of us dissapearing? If he saw us, and told the adults, what if they came and took you, or us, or even Rebecca?” Close to tears, his mother started fidgeting with her necklace, a memory of a friend who went missing when she was younger. One of the stories they used to scare the pups, to keep them away from the surface, a mermaid who got too brave and got too close.

“I-I-I wasn’t thinking. I want-ted to hear what he was saying to m- to himself even.” 

“He was speaking to you? Oh James, what have you done?”


	3. Phase 2 Steve

“Sarah Rogers, a mother, and a friend, finally reunited with her husband. She leaves behind a son, Stephen, just 18. Before her passing, she asked that this poem be read, and for us to all remember her in good health, not as she was in the end.”

_The moon is a curving flower of gold,_

_The sky is still and blue;_

_The moon was made for the sky to hold,_

_And I for you;_

_The moon is a flower without a stem,_

_The sky is luminous;_

_Eternity was made for them,_

_To-night for us._

As the poem was read aloud, Steve tried his best to stifle his tears. Around him, his mother’s friends and colleagues sobbed openly into handkerchiefs, unable to smother their own grief. They were losing so many people, and each death was a killing blow to the community. After the war, after they lost their husbands and their fathers to guns and violence they were supposed to be better, they were supposed to be repairing, growing stronger. But it seemed as though each winter bought a new illness, that they couldn’t fight, that would wipe them out with barely a thought. 

Steve was still sickly, as he’d been his whole life, his whole childhood. Barely 18, and now an orphan, those around him could do nothing but offer pity, as they watched him try to survive on his own. They knew it was only a matter of time before he joined his parents underground, before he got ill with something he couldn’t bounce back from. 

Despite everything, he continued to crawl through life. Going to art school, he sat on street corners selling art, scraping together enough money to survive. He took inspiration from the stories his mother used to tell him, of the myths which lived on around them. Of the fairies which cowered in the trees in the local park. Of the merpeople who swam up and down the river he once lived near, staying just out of sight of any humans. 

“It takes someone special for a merperson to show themselves to one of us. I’ve never been lucky, but I’m sure they’re here. We’ve got to respect them, Stevie, talk to them, and one day, one might talk back.” Ever since he was little, they used to sit together at the edge of the water, as she span stories of the people who lived there. 

“My mother always said that her mother had seen one, only briefly, but enough to see her beautiful tail, and the fear on her face. You see, they’re scared of us, terrified of what we are. The stories say that once upon a time, we were closer, that we worked together, played together. That we’re not too different, only one has a tail where the other has legs.” As he grew older, her sense of magic passed onto him, and he fell in love with the people underwater, wanting with all his heart to belong there. Each day, he would rush down after school, to sketch, to work, to just be there. 

And then he got ill. Over and over again, stuck at home, alone, in a cold and empty house, while his mother looked after people even sicker than he was. When he was ill, he was banned from sitting at the water. He’d sneak out, only to be dragged back home again, bundled up and mothered. Through the fever, he’d have intense dreams, of a boy in the water, swimming with a silver tail. He could never pick out the details the next day, as he sat and tried to redraw it, his face would never appear. 

Instead, he’d rush back to the water as soon as he was able to. To lie down at the river's edge, sketchbook in hand, looking for shapes and faces in the water. “I’d really like a friend, someone who wouldn’t bully me.” His mother told him of how kind the people there were, of how gentle and beautiful they were. Her stories leading themselves to his pictures, their faces unrecognisable, but grace in their movements. And after she was gone, those pictures served as a harsh reality to what he had lost, the stories, the hope, that she carried with her. 

Now alone, each day, he'd sit by the river, watching, waiting in the hope something, someone would appear. There was no one left to stop him anymore, no one to keep him from catching a cold sat by the water. 

He graduated, and was accepted into art college. Forced to move, to live further into the city, he left the water, taking his books of sketches with him. His mother’s house, now empty, soon had a new family living in it, as he began to rent in the city, a tiny apartment surrounded by concrete. "It's only for a year. I'll be back." He yearned for the water, missed it, waiting for the time when he could return. 

But when he did return, it was to homelessness. All money spent on art school, and on living whilst there, he could barely afford to feed himself some days. It was difficult to get work, and when he did, he didn’t last long, falling sick, or being unable to cope. At least during the summer it was warm enough to keep him healthy most of the time, when winter hit he knew it would bring illness with it, and without a house, without any family, he wouldn’t be able to afford the hospital, would struggle to look after himself. He didn’t know how he could cope, how he would survive, with nothing.

And then the war hit. Panic spread in Europe, healthy men were drafted to join the war efforts, and the streets fell silent. Filled with guilt, he watched neighbours and old classmates suit up, leaving in trucks as wives and families looked on, hoping for the best, preparing for the worst. They all still remembered the last war, still remembered the pain, that now their children would have to face. Steve ached to join the fight, to help the war, to do anything he could. But they wouldn’t take him. Even as the men around him left to never return, he was forced to stay, in shame. Some days, the looks in strangers’ eyes filled him with guilt, as they tried to find ways to blame him, to blame anyone, for what had happened to their son, to their husband. The stories rattled around empty streets, as mother’s wailed over telegrams and papers, each death a blow to those left behind. 

4F. Over and over again, unfit for service. Fake cards, each with a different address, each stamped with that dreaded sign. A collection of proof of failure. Most of the time, they’d barely read his form before stamping, his stature enough to convince them of his worthlessness, and they’d laugh as he put his coat and shoes back on to leave. “He’d barely last training camp.”

Bullies still followed him, and he fought back at them, defending his life, his possessions. His days slowly turning into an endless cycle, applying for jobs, or losing them, spending his evenings drawing and trying to sell art. Fighting back against other people on the streets, who ached to take his possessions, his food, and then racing to reapply as new enlistment stations popped up. Whenever he could, he’d sit by the river, fighting back tears some days, as he tried to work out what to do now, how to survive. He longed for his mother again, to hear her sing stories to him, of the people she believed existed. Without her, Steve struggled to remember the magic, to believe in them, even as he still found himself drawn to the water.

How could magic like that exist in a world like this?

News of the war continued to travel back to Brooklyn, stories of death, destruction, of armies in need of desperate help. Each day he became more and more angry at himself, at the world. And then a scientist watched him fight a bully outside the enlistment centre, a bin lid as a makeshift shield. He introduced himself as Abraham Erskine, and finally gave Steve the chance to enlist, to join the SSR. A chance to finally contribute to the war effort.

He left Brooklyn without even thinking, leaving behind his meagre possessions, and jumping on the first truck offered, to train, to fight. Any thoughts of the magic in the world quickly lost, as the reality of war hit him. Of endless training, and fighting, and defending himself against new bullies. 

He passed, whatever test Erskine was putting him through - he passed, and Captain America was born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sarah's Poem is called Tonight, and is by Sara Teasdale, an American lyrical poet who first published in 1907
> 
> https://freebooksummary.com/sara-teasdale


	4. Phase 3 Bucky

The boy had lost his mother. She’d stopped coming to the river with him, and he seemed so much sadder now. So full of grief, that Bucky ached to speak to him, to show him love. But he couldn’t, the glares of his parents too close, and the risk of the elder’s too high. If he spoke to a human, they’d be exiled, forced out of the school, and there was no way they could cope. Merpeople relied on each other, to get food, to stay safe. A small family like them would only die alone, especially with pups, and with the war that rattled on around them, the metal machines blowing if anyone got too close. 

And then the boy disappeared. Bucky could only worry, could only question what had happened to him, what could have caused him to vanish. Rebecca was convinced he’d finally passed, and would sing to him when their parents weren’t listening, “Bucky’s boyfriend died, Bucky’s sad now, boo hoo hoo.” She must have expected a fight from that, and they’d play and wrestle each other down to the riverbed, avoiding the trash and litter that lined it’s surface. It only ever seemed to get filthier, even as they tried to clean it, they only ever succeeded in keeping a small area around their homes safe, the rest left to become an obstacle course for the pups, to swim in and around. Their fights did little to distract him from the boy’s disappearance though, and his days were filled with worry. Even as his parents joined in to try and drag him away from the surface, asking him to look after and teach the pups. 

He knew he wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be, he would have known if he’d died, surely? There was a connection between them, something strange, something magical. 

“Your soulmate can’t be a human James. You’re just confused. He’s a human, they migrate often, he’s probably just moved, especially now he’s lost his mother. Moved to find new family.”

Bringing it up only bought arguments, and so he learnt to keep quiet, to dash towards the surface whenever he was alone, and look and wait for him to reappear. He must come back, he must come home. Bucky needed him, missed him. It was almost as though they’d grown up together, he’d seen all the boy’s achievements, heard him whisper and sing to the water. His mother knew, knew about them, even though she dismissed it as myth, she’d allowed the boy to believe, to keep coming back to the water. 

As the seasons changed, still the boy didn’t reappear. Winter hit, and with it the fight to keep the surface clear, to stop ice from forming, and keep the pups from freezing in the low temperatures. Food became scarce, Bucky soon joining the hunting team, as they ventured further and further from their homes in search of fish. It was going to be a bad season, they could only try their best to stop them from all starving, to huddle together and keep the pups safe, even as they became more and more frail. With the extended hunts, came the higher risk of activating the monsters the humans had left, and each time one exploded, the team came back covered in wounds. Those who’d remained behind worried over each new scratch, each new scar they wore as a trophy, deep down thinking that someone might not come home next time. 

They survived, ultimately, and with the first warmth of spring, the fish started to return. There was talk of them moving, of migrating somewhere better for the next winter, which caused Bucky panic. What if the boy returned, and they’d all left? He needed to stay. He argued with his parents, with the elder’s, trying to persuade them to stay. But they were older, wiser, and would always overrule his opinions, his thoughts.

“You’re still just a child James, I thought you understood now, but you don’t. It’s just going to get worse from now on, we can’t survive another winter here.”

“I’m not a child! You send me hunting with father, and we can still get fish here, it was hard, but it was just this year, it will be fine next year.”

“You’re so naive still James, I’m sorry, but we’re going to be moving. Not for a while, we’ll last the summer here, and move when the days start getting shorter again. If you’re kicking up a fuss because of your human boy, you need to understand that he’s gone, humans do that, they leave, and he won’t be coming back. I still don’t understand why you’re pining over someone who can never know you exist.” 

“You don’t understand!” He turned, swimming away, hiding far away from his family. An abandoned cave, the pups used to play in before it started to collapse years ago. A few hours passed, and, like usual, he gave in, swimming back to rejoin the swarm as the night settled. His parents simply forced a smile as they saw him, he was sick of being treated as a child. Old enough to hunt with the elders, to get food for the family, and yet, they wouldn’t trust him. Treated him as they would Rebecca, as though he had no idea how to live, how to think for himself. If he were on land, if he were able to live with the boy, he’d be able to be free, to be alone, to be independent. But they were all so reliant on each other down here, they had to be, to survive, to look after each other, and defend each other from the humans, or from whatever nature would throw at them. It had been a while since they’d had any attacks down here, but it was all they seemed to train for, to defend themselves. What use was it, he asked himself, asked his parents. “You’ll understand when you’re older.” was their constant reply, and he found himself doubting them. If he wasn’t old enough now, when would he be? How many more years would he have to wait before he suddenly understood what it meant to be a mermaid, what his purpose would be. 

He was meant to be something to the boy. He was meant to love him, or save him, anything. Deep down he knew this, tried to persuade his family to not go, to not travel away. Soon he was faced with an impossible choice, to stay behind on his own as they all left, or to travel with the swarm to find somewhere with better food, somewhere warmer and safer. He knew, they all knew that to stay on his own would mean almost certain death. 

During the summer, it seemed almost as though things were better again. The fish had returned, the two-legs had stopped throwing so much into the water, and the pups were growing bigger by the day, no longer showing the weakness they’d had in the cold. And then the boy returned. 

He still seemed so sad. So lost in his own world, and as though the world was ending around him. Bucky’s heart ached to comfort him, but his family were always so close, watching him, or dragging him away to help prepare for their upcoming move. They didn’t have much, but what they did have they all needed to take with them, and so their days were spent stockpiling food, or packing possessions into crafted nets. They didn’t know yet where they could travel to, further into the ocean, where humans weren’t so controlling, and where there would hopefully be more merpeople, a chance to join onto a bigger community, to be safer. 

The boy was struggling. Bucky could see it in the brief glimpses he caught of his face, drawn into pain, or anger, or grief. And when he could hear him talking, it was of hopelessness. Of jobs lost, money lost, of bullies and men fighting in the streets. Some nights, he’d sneak out, and hear crying, drifting towards the surface to hear him telling stories, the words casting softly across the water, a memory of his mother, telling the world of merpeople, of fairies and of myths. Those stories, a mirror of those his mother would tell him, where they were taught two-legs were to be feared, that they were to hide from them, that they would only cause pain. They didn’t explain what to do if you fell in love with one.

Or what to do when you had to leave them. 

The nights started to grow longer again, and from the surface, the boy started to talk of a war. Far away from them for now, but he was worried it would get closer. They were gathering healthy men, taking them off to fight, leaving the women and children behind. 

Bucky was thankful for once for the boys poor health, no two-leg in their right mind would want him to fight, he wouldn’t be able to. He was built to be loved, to be looked after, to create art, he couldn’t go off to war. Not where he could be hurt, not where he could be killed, or would leave Bucky behind. Now he’d returned, Bucky was determined to stay with him, if his family left, he could finally speak to him, they could struggle through the winter together, work out how to live. 

“I need to fight.” It was late at night, Bucky was dozing, rested up against a rock, the moon reflecting deep down into the water. The boy had been talking again, to himself, the cold chattering through his voice. “There’s got to be something I can do, some way I can help, I’ve been trying but they won’t have me.”

Bucky’s blood ran cold as he jolted back to awareness, listening, panicking. “No. No he can’t, he’ll die.” Agitated, he swam in small circles, eager to leap out of the water, to do something, anything, to stop him from leaving, from going off to war. “You’ll die love, don’t, please.” Distantly he heard a voice call his name, he ignored it, inching closer and closer to the surface. “Don’t leave me. Please."

“Bucky? What are you doing?” He turned, seeing his sister, and quickly blinking away any sadness in his eyes. The boy was leaving again, walking away from the water, and Bucky was so worried it could be the last time he saw him. But his sister was here, scrubbing at her eyes, looking so lost. 

“Couldn’t sleep, went for a swim. What are you doing up sis?”

“Hmm. Same, I’m worried Bucky, worried about the move, I’ve never been outside this river, and mum keeps telling me how dangerous it will be. I don’t want anyone to get hurt, and the two-legs, what if they see us?” She was so young still, barely out of puppyhood, not old or strong enough yet to hunt with them. He suddenly realised, if he decided to stay, he’d be breaking her, breaking his parent’s hearts. But to leave the boy, would surely break his own.

“Oh Becca, c’mere.” She swam up to him, and he wrapped his arms around her, gently lowering them both back to the riverbed. “It’ll be okay, everyone’s going, you’ll be safe. I know we’ve never really left here, but you know the stories, we’ve moved before, some of the elders weren’t born here. You remember their stories, about the open water? About how there’s hundreds and hundreds of us out there, who we could meet, and make friends with. It might be dangerous for a little while, but you’ll be okay, and then you’ll be safer. I can’t see you looking like you did last winter, you nearly got so ill, that won’t happen when you’re somewhere warmer, where there’s more fish.”

“You’re not going to come with us though, are you? I heard you talking to the boy again, and you talk in your sleep, you want to stay here… Can’t I stay here with you? I don’t want to go.”

“We’ve gotta go Becca, we can’t live here. It’s not safe, the war, the two-legs, the cold. Come on, let’s go back home, try and sleep. They’ll be getting us to pack again, or to hunt, they’ll want to leave soon. We’ll go together Becca and when we do, I’ll keep you safe.” He couldn’t tell himself if he was telling the truth, whose heart he’d break when he made his decision. 

The elders made their decision the next day. They’d leave in a week. Bucky and Becca spent their nights sat out alone, without their parent’s knowledge, looking for the boy as they’d done as children. But he’d stopped visiting, disappeared without a trace. Bucky worried he’d found his wish, found some way to join the war, to fight, or had even been killed, succumbed to the cold or sickness. 

Too soon, it was the night before they were due to leave. And Bucky had to make the most difficult decision of his life so far. If he was going to stay, he needed to leave now, to hide, so they couldn’t find him, and force him to go with them. He sat, at the entrance to their home, tail twitching with stress. The boy was gone, he didn’t know where, but he knew he was still alive. Knew deep down, he was still alive, he would know, surely, if he’d died. 

Looking back, he could just make out his sister, as she snuck down to sit beside him. They didn’t speak for a while, simply sitting lost in their own thoughts. Leaning against him, she softly asked. “Have you made up your mind?”

He clasped her hand in his own, as though she were still a pup, and replied, “Yes.”


	5. Phase 4 Bucky

When the sun rose, they went back inside, greeting their parents, and getting ready. Bucky could see the fear permanently etched on Becca’s face, and tried to wash away her fears. “It’ll be okay, I’ve got you, I won’t let you get hurt. We’ll get there Becca, we’ll get somewhere safer, somewhere warmer.” They all gathered together, mothers holding their youngest pups, families checking on each other. They were carrying what they could, but much of it would have to be left behind, too dangerous or heavy to move. The elders would lead, and they slowly started swimming, following the river out towards the ocean. The hunters brought up the rear, making sure the young and vulnerable were protected, even though they wore matching faces of fear and worry. As they turned a bend in the river, they all looked back, the last image of what had been their home. Taking a deep breath, they carried on forward, this was it now, this was their journey of a lifetime. 

Flanked by those much stronger and older than him, Bucky kept an eye on the waters around them, as the floor dropped deeper below them. Up ahead, he could just see the flash of Becca’s tail amongst a group of pups, as she tried to push away her fear to help look after them, their parents occupied with their nursing pups. 

For a while, they were still in areas most of them recognised, heading further out of their hunting ranges. He could see his family becoming more uneasy as they reached new water, areas unknown to all but the oldest of the elders. They’d travelled here, when they were just pups themselves, from the open ocean to the more sheltered river. But even they seemed to be slowing the pace, as they became less confident with their surroundings. 

It was too calm. Calmer than their hunting trips, even as they watched out for sharks, or the metal machines they knew floated around here. One wrong move around them could cause serious injury, especially with the swarm of pups they were protecting. Bucky had seen first hand the damage they could do, an image that would fill his nightmares for years to come. They skirted far around them, warily watching them, and encouraging the pups to just keep swimming, to follow those ahead. 

As the water became darker, they carried on swimming. Those more used to the hunt becoming uneasy at the lack of sharks, playing it off as luck, and that they should be thankful for it, whilst deep down, they knew something must be wrong, to scare them off. Usually they’d have at least seen one, even if it wasn’t interested in them. Maybe they were just as scared of the two-legs and their machines, keeping their distance. 

Night fell, and they were all getting tired, so they found a sheltered cave. Clustered together, they took turns watching out, sat in pairs at the entrance, the soft sounds of their sleeping families behind them. Bucky found himself paired up with Dugan, an older merman who taught him to hunt, as they were woken up to take their turn watching.

“It’s too quiet out there. I don’t like this, I know we should be thankful it’s been so easy so far, but it’s too easy. Not a single shark so far, and surprisingly few fish.”

“Something the two-legs are doing?” Bucky asked, “Or what could it be?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head, gazing blankly to the empty ocean surrounding them. “I don’t know. And that worries me. Seems like it wasn’t just our river to lose all life, I can’t imagine how far this has spread. And how far they’ll expect us to travel now, to find somewhere safe, where we can actually have a chance of living.”

“Will the pups make it that far though?” Bucky was met with silence, as Dugan simply looked at him, fear in his eyes.

“Even the elders were starting to struggle today. I don’t think they expected it to be this bad, this desolate. We’ll need to hunt as we go if we travel much further, and I don’t know how we’d get enough if everywhere is like this. It’s going to be hard Buck, much harder than anything we’ve ever done hunting. I hope that the elders know where they’re going, or else we’re going to die out here.” 

“We had to leave though? I don’t know how we could have survived in that river, I told Becca we wouldn’t survive, that our only chance was to move. Did I lie to her? Have we sent ourselves to death out here?” In the shadows of the water, they looked back at their families, fast asleep, the elders and the hunters surrounding the pups and vulnerable. 

“You didn’t lie to her Buck. This was our only chance, but we’re going to have to be brave now. We can’t let them know what we’re thinking, I spoke to Gabe earlier and he’s worried too. But we can’t tell Rebecca, we can’t tell our parents, we’ve got to stay hopeful for them, as that’s our only chance to survive. If we give up, we will die, we will get hurt, either from the two-legs or from sharks, or simply nature. Brave face kid, we’ve got an important job to do here.”

“I don’t know if I can.” 

“You can Buck. I know you can, you’re braver than you think. This war that’s going on up there, it’s so much bigger than all of us. But I know, somewhere, there’s got to be more than us, we know there are, we’ve just got to get to them. Then we’ll be safer, we’ll be able to hunt with them, live with them, away from the two-legs. We’ve just got to get there first, and that’s the hard bit. We’ve survived this far, and I’ll admit, I’m as terrified as you as to what’s out there, but I need to be brave, for you, for the pups, for everyone else. Sometimes we’ve got to pretend to be brave, so pretend for me Buck, pretend for that boy you love, we’ll get through this. A moment of bravery, for a lifetime of happiness.”

Silently, Bucky held eye contact, lip trembling, before taking a deep breath, calming himself and looking away. When he looked back, the fear had been taken over by acceptance, and he smiled weakly at Dugan, “Brave face. For Becca, for you, for the boy.”

“You got it kid. Now, do you want to wake up Gabe or Jim?”


	6. Phase 5 Bucky

After a fitful sleep, the group slowly woke up. “Hey sleepyhead.” Bucky playfully jostled his sister as the last slips of a nightmare disappeared. “Lovely hair sis, might want to sort that out before mum does it for you.” She glared in response, sleep clouding her eyes still, as she stretched out, reaching up to her hair and trying her best to settle it.

“Why are we up so early? I didn’t realise this journey of a lifetime would involve waking up with the sun every morning.”

“They want to get moving, use as much of the daylight as we can. You’ll get your beauty sleep later, can’t have you missing out on that.” 

“Oi! You’re looking in need of some of that yourself.” 

“Me? You hurt me sis.” He clutched at his chest, pretending to swoon. “I win prizes for these looks.”

“Most likely to get punched though wasn’t it? If Dugan’s to be believed from your party?”

”Shhhh, don’t ask him, he lies. I am the most handsome merman here, no matter what they all tell you.”

”Hmmmm, if you say so Buck.” His performance was worth it, as a small smile spread over her face.

“That Dugan’s nothing but a liar, I can’t believe he would tell you such things, that I’m the most likely to get punched? Lies. He’s an ugly, stupid, dirty-” Rebecca’s eyes widened, as Bucky continued on with his over-dramatic one-man show. “And he’s right behind me isn’t he?”

He span, looking up at the other man as he swam towards them, bearing a wicked grin. “Ahh, Bucky, good morning! Sleep well my dear friend? I think Rebecca’s right to be honest, about the competition you won.” Gently, barely brushing against his skin, but fast enough to seem realistic, he punched Bucky.

Who quickly propelled himself across the cave, forcing himself to collapse to the ground, even as Dugan looked down at his still clenched fist. “I barely touched him. Have I become a superhero? Do I have super-strength?” He looked back up, catching eye contact with Rebecca as she saw Bucky get up, grinning, to swim back towards them. “Sleep well little one?”

“As well as to be expected, until that idiot woke me up. Something about us having to use as much as the daylight as we can?”

“Yeah, it’s okay though, I thought of some games for the pups to play whilst we go today!”

”I’m not a pup anymore Dugan.”

“I need someone to help me run it though, and between you and me I don’t think your brother has the intelligence to do it… Might have to count above 10, the poor sap might struggle.”

Laughing, she looked guiltily at Bucky as he came closer, rubbing his face where he’d been ‘punched’.

“It wouldn’t be fair to ask him to do it I suppose then, I’ll help you.”

”Wait, are you two scheming? What about?” Bucky joined their small conversation, suspiciously glancing between the pair. “Wait, I’m probably safer not knowing, carry on, I’ll go check around, see how long before they want to head off.” He quickly vanished, glad they’d managed to get his sister to smile, to forget a little of the fear he still felt. “Be brave, for her.”

Soon the rest were up, awake, and joining in on their fair share of grumbling. For the pups, it seemed like a big adventure still, too young to understand the fear those older had, too young to understand just how unusual it was for the group to leave their river, let alone leave with no intention of ever returning.

The mothers, nursing their youngest pups, or clutching onto each other, fear mirrored in everyone’s eyes. As they looked to their partners, hoping for their better tomorrow to come sooner, for this journey to be over, for them to have somewhere safe to rest.

The hunters, healthy men and women, adorned with scars and seemingly unlimited energy. Constantly having to be on alert, and ready to protect their family from whatever the journey may throw at them.

And leading again, the elders, some with a brief memory of a path once travelled here, others still too young to know anything but the river. But with their age and wisdom came frailness, and the need to go slower than others would have liked.

They weren’t leaving anyone behind though. Even as those older slowed down, or parents became forced to carry pups, their tails aching. Blindly they swam, trusting those around them to watch their backs, to protect what was most important.

Dugan’s made up games kept the pups going, kept them and their parents distracted from the horrors around them and in their heads. Shadowing him, Bucky forced smiles onto his face, forced a mask of confidence over the fear he felt.

As night fell again, they rested, taking turns keeping watch. “I don’t know how you do it Dugan. I felt so fake acting confident today, and I know it’s only going to be the same tomorrow.”

”I’m faking. We’re all faking, I would say everyone asleep in that cave is faking, trying to keep the merperson next to them going.”

“Will it be worth it?”

“Yes. It has to be, it’s the only choice we have. We’ve got to believe there’s something better out there, even if there are no more families, no more merpeople out there, there’ll be somewhere safer for us to live."

Each day passed in the same way, waking with the sun, waking up those who didn’t, then swimming until the sun set. As each day went, they found themselves forced to take more breaks, each stop leaving them exposed, but necessary to keep them all going.

Each day, they became more and more uneasy as to how simple it had all been, at how quiet it had been. Thankfully the fish population had increased the further they went, and so half the hunters spent their days hunting, catching back up to the group with bags full of fresh fish.

But they couldn’t deny the worried expressions that had been permanently etched onto everyone’s faces. Even the elders had been seen muttering uneasily between themselves, and Bucky worried that they were lost, that they couldn’t remember the way.

It was almost a sigh of relief when they finally saw a shark in the distance, prowling through the water. Too far away to cause them any significant worry, but enough for them to watch it, to prepare to attack if it noticed them in it’s slow meander through the ocean.

When it suddenly turned tail and swam away from them, that was a cause of concern. “Where did the shark go?” Voices started overlapping, as they looked around them, noticing even the fish suddenly swarm together, and away.

”It just went, it just turned around like it’s life was in danger. And the fish too.”

”What’s around here that’s scarier than a shark?”

“There’s a cave down there, get them down there, get them hidden.”

”I don’t like this, this is all sorts of wrong.”

”I can’t see anything else here but us.”

”C’mon pups, down here, rest time.” They shepherded them inside, and the elders, and the vulnerable, until the cave was full, and the group of hunters was stuck on the outside, looking up to the empty water.

“This feels wrong. I don’t know what, but something is wrong.”

”What’s that shadow? Above the water?”

”Two-legs? They won’t see us down here, surely. They can’t.”

”Guard the others, we’ll scout out a bit. There’s got to be something here. Keep low though, keep away from whatever is up there.”

Paired up with Dugan, Bucky headed out along the ocean floor, glancing back to his family, his parents making up part of the team guarding, seeing them talking to each other, Becca’s wide eyes peeking out the entrance of the cave. Around them, others paired up, spears or weapons pointed into the empty water.

”I’ve got a bad feeling about this Buck.”


	7. Phase 6 Bucky

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this Buck.” They circled, peering out into the darkness.

”What could it be?”

”All I’m thinking is two-legs, or an even bigger shark. Think I’d prefer the shark to be honest.”

“Will they all be safe?”

”As safe as they can, out here a cave is fine for hiding for a while, we’ll need to lure whatever it is away from them before attacking it, else it could just go for them, knowing they’re vulnerable and hiding. Even a big shark would be no match for a group of us, trained and able to attack it from all directions. It’s hiding well though, wherever it is.”

A slow creeping dread made its way up their backs, as they looked for the danger, for whatever had caused everything else to flee. Devoid of fish, of any life, it was as though they were the only things alive in the ocean. Above them, the two-legs’ flying contraption seemed to have passed, the shadow at least disappearing. But still, they remained the only thing moving deep in the water.

Looking around to the other pairs hunting, Bucky saw his own fear and confusion mirrored back at him, as they searched for something, anything, to explain the sudden emptiness. With shaking heads, they were signalled to meet back up, and soon clustered together, a fair distance from the cave and their families, where they could talk about the complete lack of anything to see.

“I don’t know what it could be.”

”It can’t be safe to move them all though, not when there must be something out there.”

”Should we wait until some fish or something head back to this area? They at least have seen or felt something odd, even if we’re not able to notice it.”

“We may as well get some rest too, small groups continue searching and patrolling, swap out every now and then, stay in sight of the cave entrance and we’ll try and reassure everyone else it’s all good.”

“Lie to them, you mean?”

”No, well, yes I guess. I don’t understand what is going on out here, but I at least know something has scared off the fish, scared a shark, and if a shark has turned tail and fled, we ought to hide too. It could be nothing, or it could be something way off in the distance which they’re just sensitive to.”

“And then what are we going to do?”

”Hope something happens. That the fish come back, or we find what’s scared them all off, and scare that off ourselves.”

All equally confused, the group agreed, and split up. Bucky found himself as part of the first patrol, sticking close to Dugan, as he tried to force some laughter, or bickering, amongst the new smaller group. “It’s nothing, we’re all being a bunch of pufferfish about this, you know how dumb sharks are, it probably spooked over a bit of seaweed or something.”

Slowly, they swam a loop, keeping an eye on where the others were, hiding, and searching for something, anything, to show it was safe again, to show that they could carry on moving. It was getting dark again, they’d be forced to stay where they were for the night, to hope that it was safe enough. At least, they hoped, everyone would be well rested, that tomorrow they could make up the distance, go faster, find their safe place before the winter hit again.

“Should we check closer to the surface? Now that two-leg machine’s gone?”

“We can try, might be something.”

Swimming as one, they made their way closer to the surface, squinting against the glare of the setting sun.

“What is that? That’s not normal.” The shadow had suddenly reappeared, growing darker and closer to the water.

”Two-legs? Must be. How odd.”

“GET DOWN, GET DOWN.” They split, swimming faster and faster to try and get out of sight, get free of the two-legs sight, as the shadow appeared to land on the surface of the water. Younger, Bucky soon fell behind, barely thinking as he pushed himself to get safe, to get away. Above them, splashes showed something else was in the water with them, and his blood went cold.

“Protect them!” He heard a muffled shout from ahead, Dugan he thought, even as he saw them change direction, to get away from where the others were hidden. It was every mer for themself, glints from scales the only sign he was still following them, still with a chance of escape. But still behind him, the bulky splashing of something unnatural, he couldn’t risk a glimpse at what it was, his brain screaming ‘danger’ as he pushed himself to go even faster, to go deeper, even whilst looking for somewhere to hide.

There, a cave opening, he just saw a flash of tail as someone else hid, before a face peered out. Dugan, and Gabe. Their arms outstretched, even as they shouted to him, “Come on Bucky! Nearly there, keep going, don’t look back.”

”Don’t look behind you, just keep going!”

The noise came closer, the rough splashing of something less experienced, something less refined than all the creatures which called the water home. Metal and plastic, foreign objects, and two-legs.

Something brushed against his tail, and he flinched, glancing behind him to see a faceless monster, a weapon raised. “No. NO!” He shouted, adrenaline pushing him forward, even as Dugan and Gabe rushed out of their cave, to help him, or distract the monster.

And then pain. White hot blinding pain, as something pierced his tail, snaring him and spilling warm blood into the water.

”BUCKY!” Blinking, he saw his friends attacked by more of the faceless monsters, chased back into the cave, into safety, where they couldn’t be reached, the monsters too bulky to squeeze into the gap. The fire in his tail pulled, and he too was dragged backwards through the water.

He tried to free himself, thrashing against whatever had him, twisting against the hands which tried to hold him still. They had ropes, and nets, and soon bound him, leaving him tired and weak, life draining out of him. Eyelids growing heavy, he saw Dugan and Gabe chasing, and his heart jumped as he realised they wouldn’t be able to catch up. As blackness stole his mind, he saw them chased off again by the monsters, before he was pulled above the surface of the water.


	8. Phase 7 Bucky

He awoke with panic, thrashing, remembering what had happened before. Trapped, the more he moved the more water escaped the box he was squeezed into. Something had wrapped his tail, the wound hidden under some two-leg cloth.

Captured. His mind rushed to his friends, his family, how much time had passed? Had the others survived, made it back to his family, told them what happened? Could they rescue him?

He remembered his mother’s stories about the merpeople stolen by the two-legs, never to return. “Be brave Bucky.” Breathing deeply, he tried to calm himself, to chase away the tears that welled to the surface. “You’re not dead yet, they want you alive, you might be able to escape. Work out where you are.”

Small box, barely big enough for him to stretch. Filled with saltwater, slowly getting warm. The box was made of clear material, glass they called it he thought. Outside that, darkness, save for a lone green light high up on the wall, just enough to illuminate rough shapes. Two-leg contraptions, but none of them themselves, he was alone. There was no lid on the box, but to throw himself out would mean death, he’d barely have the strength to do that, let alone get back in. Stretching out of the water felt so so wrong, but allowed him the clarity of hearing better in the air, and he let himself fall back in as footsteps came closer, feigning unconsciousness.

Through half-lidded eyes he saw the door open, and quickly closed them, letting himself float limply in the water. From the outside, their voices were muffled, warbled through the air, but he could just about make out words from the two-legs.

“Our experiment ---still not awake--- what did they do?”

”---are you sure? Could ---faking.”

“I’m not --- hands in there.”

The boxed was shoved roughly, more water escaping onto the floor, and Bucky opened his eyes, glaring at the two-legs. Two of them, a taller one, and the shorter, which seemed to be in charge. 

“Oh you are awake ----- little pet.” He bared his teeth, refusing to speak to them, wondering if he should even let them know he understood them. ‘Pet’, he thought, who is she to be calling me pet. 

“Little water soldier, how --- he will be. Shall we start?"

“So eager to begin. Now pet, do you understand us?” They moved closer, circling the box, and he watched them, staying silent. “Oh pet, don’t lie to us, the men who captured you heard you --- you speak as well as the rest of us.”

“Pet if you don’t speak, I’ll start the fun so much sooner than I planned. And whilst I feel we would enjoy that, I doubt you will.”

He stayed silent, sitting in the corner, arms crossed. One came closer, the taller one, getting close to the box.

“Now, my friend here next to the tank might have to help me out here. You see, if you don’t start talking to us, there’s a little tap there. And you won’t like what it does.” Eyes darting around, Bucky saw him next to the tap, and saw that it would surely let the water out of this box. But they wouldn’t, if they wanted him alive, they wouldn’t do something which could kill him. 

“Still no words? Oh my dear, just check that tap works for me, will you?” It was turned, and water quickly started pouring out of the tank, soon exposing the top of Bucky’s head, and so he slouched down in the water, continuing to simply glare at them. “Playing this game are we? No point pretending little fish, we know you speak. I’d hate to see you run out of water simply because you wouldn’t speak to us.”

The water reached lower and lower, and as it finally ran out, he panicked, gasping to try and breathe.

"One simple word for us little one, I don't want to see all our efforts go to waste."

"Fuck you." He spat out the words like they burned, pushing himself up to seem stronger than he felt, even as his arms trembled.

"Thank you, now that wasn't so hard was it? Let him have some water back love."

Buckets of water were thrown back over him, until the level was barely enough to cover him laying down. This continued, giving them information kept him safe, refusing to answer left him gasping for water. 

"I can't, I don't know, we didn't know where we were going."

Hours blurred into days, of constant questions, of being starved, taunted by ever-changing faces. 

"They wouldn't tell us, I don't think they knew."

He was thankful, or he at least hoped, that these questions meant he was the only one they'd managed to catch, that his friends, his family, Rebecca, were still safe. That even if he was trapped with what seemed like no chance of escape, that they were safe somewhere, still travelling.

Thinking too much on them made tears spring to his eyes, which he hid from his captors, not wanting to show any weakness. It was only after a nightmare, where he woke gasping Rebecca’s name, that they could truly hurt him. Where they used all his worst thoughts against him, telling stories of how they’d killed her. To start with, he knew they must be lying, that he’d know if his sister, if his family, had died. 

He started to break. Days of the same questions, of being told how he’d caused her death, of how he was evil. Relentless torture, as they experimented, electrical currents echoing through the water, leaving him shuddering and weak. His wounds from the attack healed, replaced with lightning bolt scars, and an ever-changing patchwork of bruises, as they started to punish him more, to try and break his will. Any attempt to disobey led to more and more pain, before the only thing to grant him any relief was to just do whatever they asked. To fight, to train, becoming a weapon.

And then he killed for them. 

Taken in darkness to an unknown location, and pointed in the direction of one of their floating machines, a sub, they called it. An enemy, a sabotage mission. To plant a bomb, and to leave, unnoticed. It was too easy for him, two-legs never expecting anything from below, they thought they owned the water. As he swam back to his handlers, mind blank, he barely noticed the explosion behind him, choosing to ignore what his body was being forced to do. 

Inside, he was breaking, breaking deep down, his mind shattering, closing off. They started calling him Asset, and he lost himself even more. Each day a blur, each mission adding up, the deaths becoming an endless tally in his mind. He was caught in their war, an unwilling soldier of the water. On some missions he became braver, trying to escape, to swim away. But they always captured him, and then they stopped letting him out.

They paraded him like a trophy, showing him off to more of the two-legs. And then one day, he was placed into a box, the lid closed on him as he started to panic, thrashing in the darkness, a small window the only glimpse to the outside. 

“Asset, stop. Hold still.” A voice of power, of fear, of needing to obey. He stilled, squinting out into the light. Hissing preceded the world suddenly becoming so much colder, before freezing emptiness plunged him into unconsciousness.


	9. Phase 8 Bucky

“Cryostasis successful.” Spoken words brought him blinking back to life, to see a huddle of two-legs surrounding the now open tank. “We can begin the next stage.” He snapped at fingers as hands forced their way into the tank, confusion and grogginess making him scared. “He’s still a fighter. Muzzle him.” Soon bound, unable to speak, he couldn’t make a noise as they lifted him from the water. 

He held his breath, panicking over what new pain he would be subjected to, or where they were taking him. They carried him down a corridor, as water dripped from him, and voices carried from open doors. Roughly pushing through a doorway, he was dropped into a smaller, tighter tank, the water barely giving him space to breathe. Something metal was forced around his head, and the muzzle replaced for a bite guard. Panic overcame him, as he tried to get out, get away. 

But it was useless. Each struggle left him more tired, as he tried to work out what they’d done to him before, what cryostasis was. And what this next stage was. They all suddenly stood clear away from the tank, the torture, before white pain blinded him. 

Someone was screaming, the sound piercing, adding to the pain as his senses were assaulted. It was him, he was screaming, his voice echoing through the water, through the room, even as the pain seemed to ebb away. This cycle of pain and relief continued, as his mind was overthrown, taken control by the monsters.

He was determined to keep them from his memories. In his mind, he chanted their names, imagining their faces, remembering stories. His family, his friends, the boy. If the boy was even still alive. Time meant nothing anymore, he couldn’t tell how long this war had been going on for, how long he had been captured for. 

Locked away in a corner of his mind, his memories, and himself, Bucky, survived through the torture, through the pain. But they’d created a monster using his body, an Asset, a soldier. And with the use of words, they could get him to do whatever they wanted, he couldn’t even have the chance to think about disobeying. 

He’d become the perfect killing machine. Everything he’d never wanted, he’d only hunted to help his family, to keep them all alive. But now he was a weapon in the two-legs’ war, and could only watch on as his body swam, fought, murdered. 

Life became meaningless, a mission to complete, before being frozen again, brought back out in what seemed like minutes, but must have been years. He saw the age in his handler’s faces, as they greyed and wrinkled, and then eventually disappeared, taken over by younger, different handlers. They didn’t fear him, instead treated him as inhuman, simply a gun, a weapon, to point in the right direction. 

He wept for himself, for his family, who must now have given up on him. For the boy, who he’d surely never see again now. Even as he wept, his body carried out missions, he’d lost count on the deaths he’d caused. Trying to fight it was hopeless, he tried to throw off the soldier, to cause an accident, to have anything happen that would mean they would be free, whatever it took. 

A dangerous mission, and he thought he’d succeeded, managing to jolt the soldier enough to get them injured, crushed under a falling boulder. But the handlers picked them up, carrying them back to the base, and leaving them in cyro. 

When he awoke next, he didn’t recognise anyone. All the two-legs were older, but all he had never seen before. Strangers, and he worried about how many years he’d lost. Given his orders, they were transported to a river, to act as backup to fighting two-legs. “Murder Captain America.” He recognised the name, somehow, assuming he must have been a mission before, one failed. He could never really remember the failed missions, the hours after were always a blur. The soldier was quiet, and he questioned why, before realising he’d managed to gain a little control back. He spent the time they were stationed wrestling back more control, breaking the commands, planning to try and escape. 

He could make his escape. He was alone, the only handler fighting up on the two-leg machine floating in the sky. But he was drawn to watch, to wait in anticipation, something strange making him feel he needed to stay. And so he waited, eyes tracking the vague sounds of fighting, before the ships started to fall to the water. Instinct kicked in, and he questioned it, before simply following, swimming as fast as he could to a point of impact, where a body had seemed to fall. Not his handler, the other, the Captain. 

Diving deep down, he grabbed, clutching around the man’s chest, dragging the heavy body towards the riverbank. The soldier, now pushed into a corner instead of Bucky, shouted about the mission, but was ignored, as he instead saved the man, a connection reforming after so many years. It was the boy, his soulmate, but that didn’t make sense. How could he still be alive, when it was so obvious that many years had passed, that time had moved on. The war had ended, he knew that much, as the missions he was sent on changed from fights to assassinations. And the boy had grown, he was no longer the scrawny, weak kid Bucky had originally fallen in love with.

But he still loved him. 

Pushing him up out of the water, he tried to hide, out of sight from any handlers who could be looking for him. He could escape now, find his freedom. But he’d found his boy, and it was time to be brave. To wait, to check he was safe, and hopefully get saved himself. 


End file.
